


Isolate and Educate

by starrelia



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Cisgender, Isolation, M/M, Suicide mention, self-starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 18:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7280290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrelia/pseuds/starrelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hyperion being his has always been his dream. He wants to be the CEO of Hyperion, wants to be at the top of Helios’s food chain, and now Rhys has it.</p><p>Though, being isolated in the office isn’t what he signed up for.<br/>Maybe.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>“Wait.” Fiona interrupts, “If he kept you in there – then what the hell are you doing in here? Guy like Jack wouldn’t let you go.”</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>He sighs. He has been hoping that Fiona hates him enough to not ask, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Isolate and Educate

**Author's Note:**

> A slightly different take on the ending of Ep4 I guess.

“So all I have to do is just… plug that in?” Rhys asks, dubious, and he fidgets uncomfortably in the luxurious chair as the drive stares at him—he’s almost worried it’s going to stab him in the eye, his finger hovering over the button that brought it out, and Jack laughs at his fidgeting. “It—it won’t do anything to me, right?” He asks again and looks over to Jack, instead of the knife of a drive that stares him down.

Jack is all teeth and smiles when Rhys looks his way, hands resting in the crooks of his elbows and he swallows audibly at the confidence that radiates. “Calm down kiddo,” Jack says and he brings two fingers up, tilts his head, and shows Rhys the port that he himself has and that… doesn’t comfort him much. “I’ve used it before. S’just feels heavy, y’know? Big thing, after all. It’s not as bad as, y’know, _plugging in an ID drive._ ”

Oh. Right. He looks down at his feet, at his skag-skinned shoes and wonders if maybe he should have bought something that isn’t so Pandoran, and then he looks back up at the drive. He takes a deep breath and grabs at it with his left hand, brings it close to his port and flinches when it snaps and extends out some more, and Rhys swallows and presses it in.

It’s invasive, similar to the feeling of a dull-knife being shoved into one of his orifices, and Rhys grits his teeth briefly at the uncomfortable sensation of being emptied out. Jack’s flickering and fading next to him but he doesn’t seem that alarmed, no. Instead, there’s a big grin on his face, something victorious and beautiful, and Rhys can’t help the devoted smile that spreads on his lips like a curse.

He barely even hears Fiona when she calls him up, hears her voice in his head – not as distinctly or as echoing as Jack’s, no, just barely – and he gives her an automatic response. “All good, just getting into position.” The smile is on his face still, and Jack bends down so that his face is level with Rhys’s.

It’s almost tender the way the man reaches out, blue hand stroking over olive skin, cupping – or trying to at least – his cheek before he’s completely gone and Rhys’s eyes widen. The drive lets out a small click and exits on its own, his head empty – in more ways than one – and spinning with the loss of Jack and the drive. He looks around, tries to see where Jack has gone, and he jolts at the laughter that echoes around in the office.

Maybe Rhys needs to be scared right now, but it’s hard to be when Jack’s laughing and gloating. “I’m _finally_ back!” Jack yells among all the gleeful cackles and Rhys walks over to the windows, stares at Elpis’s scarred surface, and exhales. “And it’s time to make _you_ president, Rhysie boy!” Jack says far too happily but Rhys doesn’t think much of it.

He places his hands on the windows, spreads his fingers, and looks up at the sight of Elpis with the barest of smiles as Jack makes his announcement. Maybe a little too threatening, over the top, but Rhys is giggling nonetheless.

Helios is his. Hyperion is his. He exhales against the glass, both hands splayed on it and he pushes himself away finally. “All of this is mine.” Rhys says, soft, hoping to be unheard, but Jack picks up on it—he picks up on it, anyway, rather.

“Of course it is, kiddo.” Jack practically sings out and Rhys looks behind him at the monitor that Jack has taken to. “And _only_ this is yours.”

It takes a moment for that to sink in and Rhys stares up at Jack. The smile on his own face falters, questions forming in his mind and confusion warping his expression in an ugly manner and Jack just smiles, teeth showing, and Rhys turns to face him fully. “What—what do you mean only this?  You mean—you mean, Helios, right? Because… Helios isn’t—isn’t the main base.” Rhys stutters out and Jack’s expression doesn’t change.

“I know, kiddo.” Jack says, unaffected, and continues, “I did own Hyperion, once upon a time. And I _ain’t_ talking about Helios, Rhys.”

He stiffens up as everything around him goes dark and his head whips around to see that the windows staring out to Elpis are blackened, hiding the view, and Rhys’s eyes widen. He turns to look back at the monitor, to yell at Jack—

But the monitor is as black as the windows, back to its original place and far, far away from Rhys, and the unease coiling in his belly suddenly springs. “Jack?” he calls out. “Jack?!” a little louder, “Jack?! Where are you?!”

He nearly trips over his own feet trying to get to the door and he slams his palms against it, repeatedly, as it refuses to open up on him getting near. Finding that useless, he makes his way over to the door panel and tries – desperately – to work it, but nothing he does makes it respond.

The doors are closed.

Stumbling away, Rhys can practically feel his heart pumping and beating too loudly in his throat and he wants to cough, vomit, something to get rid of the discomfort. It takes him a minute or two to remember the trapdoor, to remember that it’s – hopefully, probably – still safe to go down and he’s running back to the chair.

It takes him another moment to remember where the trapdoor’s button is and he presses it. Looks over—the trapdoor’s still closed. He presses the button again. And one more time. A fourth time. The trapdoor isn’t opening.

“J—Jack?” Rhys cries out. “Jack! Let me out! Please!” Rhys yells and he gets no response, nothing—he flicks his hand to open up his palm monitor, but he can only yell when the announcer woman says something about an intruder and his arm is shocked trying to use its functions. ‘ _What the hell?’_ he thinks, almost delirious, and he’s breathing too quickly.

Everything—everything is out of his control. “Jack! Open the door!” he screams, one more time, hoping against hope that Jack’ll answer but… nothing. “Please! Please let me out! Jack! What am – what am I gonna do!? Let me out! Jack!”

With shaky legs, he makes his way to the front of the desk where he promptly falls on his ass and hugs his knees to his chest, face burying against said knees. “Please? Let me out—let me out.” He murmurs against his legs, far too quiet for anyone to hear. “I don’t—I don’t know what I did. I’m sorry? Please just—let me out of here. Let me out of here!”

But no one answers and Rhys is trembling, alone, and he can’t even hear Fiona’s voice in his head – faint, and barely there. Static.

“Please let me out.” He tries again.

No one responds.

He’s alone.

* * *

“Wait.” Fiona interrupts, her posture tense and everything about her screams ‘uncomfortable’ when Rhys is done telling his part. “If he kept you in there – then what the hell are you doing in here? Guy like Jack wouldn’t let you—“ she stops, shifts, and then continues, “—wouldn’t just… let you. Go.”

He sighs. He has been hoping that Fiona wouldn’t ask—that she hates him enough not to ask—but Rhys looks down at his hands then looks back up. “No one else was allowed into—into Jack’s office, okay?” Rhys begins snappily. “Not even bots, so I had to take care of everything on my own. There was a room that was connected to several others—like, an apartment suite in an office kinda deal. I took care of myself there, cleaned up the office and the suite thing, and then I’d… be alone. With only Jack to talk to me.”

“I didn’t even know you left until Jack told me you escaped that day, when I was isolated. Turns out, he installed something on me that made it so that… I can’t contact outside. Or get help. I could get stuff to read or whatever, but nothing else.”

“Rhys,” Fiona starts, “this isn’t answering my question.” He looks at her, takes in the way her brows furrow and her lips are curled in a frown, and he scowls at her.

He straightens his back up. “Then lemme finish, okay? Just- lemme finish. Uh… where was—okay, okay, I remember. He didn’t… Jack didn’t even let me – he didn’t let me do my _actual_ CEO work. I was the CEO, but only in title. So I did nothing but read and read and—I was going crazy. I wanted _out.”_

“Jack has arms _everywhere_ in that office of his… but they can’t reach the middle. I told him I wanted the vault, sat in the middle and starved myself until he gave in and let me go to Pandora.” His shoulders sag. “I think someone’s been following me.”

Both the Stranger and Fiona tense up and scramble, but Rhys claps his hands together loudly. “I wore my nicest clothes.” Rhys begins. “Figured out an area that I could run to where the person—sniper, I think—would take a long time to follow me.”

He looks around. “There’s nowhere for him to be without being seen. Conference Call’ll get him if he shows up.” He looks at the gun in the Stranger’s hands and looks back at his own hands. “I um—I was… I was able to convince them – Jack – to make a pistol, a legendary—legendary pistol. Kinda like the call.”

With that said, Rhys reaches into his jacket and pulls out a black gun with yellow and red lines—sleek, slender and gorgeous, exactly like the Conference Call. “I swiped it. I don’t think—I was really lucky. I um… I figured out where I was gonna go. Then I’d…” he makes the fingergun gesture with his fingers and presses it to his forehead, and Fiona stiffens up.

“Guess that’s… outta the plan. Guess I actually gotta get the vault now.” Rhys looks away. “Thanks to you.” He finishes, bitterly, and the Stranger and Fiona are both quiet.

“We can help you outta this, y’know?” Fiona says softly. “There’s room in Pandora for you. Lots of room.”

“Jack’ll get me.” Rhys responds. Fiona’s quiet. “I know he will. So if you wanna help? Kill me, or help me get the vault so that I can go back to the office.”

There’s a heavy, awkward silence that hangs over for a bit. “Rhys?” Fiona begins. “I’m sorry.”

“You _aren’t._ I don’t want your _pity.”_ Rhys spits out.

The Stranger, silent until now, falls down heavily onto the sandy ground. “We should sleep.” Is the only thing he says, the mask he’s wearing distorting his voice far too much for Rhys to tell what he’s feeling, but he doesn’t care.

He looks at the gun in his hands, slumps, and knows well enough that what he said about – about the sniper not being able to really do much to them right now is a lie. The moment he brings the gun to his head, it’s going to be shot out and Rhys is going to have a hurt hand and two panicked – panicked bandits yelling at him.

Rhys just wants it to stop, at this point. He doesn’t even care about the vault. He just… wants to get out.

But he has made his mistake, and now he has to live with it.


End file.
